The Creeping Insanity
by NastifaceX
Summary: Dean Winchester is slowly going insane...and he's not the only one. Will his hunter background save him, or is the creeping insanity to dark and delicious to resist?
1. Of Winchesters and Closed Spaces

**Disclaimer: One day, I rule the world, and everyone may bow before me, and I will buy the rights…but that day is not today.**

**Warnings: Umm, actually, I don't know much yet, this is kinda a day by day project, but I'm gonna go ahead and put down: graphic violence and sex, mental instability, Dark!Dean and Harry, and all sorts of other goodies. Maybe even a future Winchester sandwich with Potter filling? Who knows? *waggles eyebrows***

_Apr. 8, 2012, _

_St. Gabriel's Home for the Mentally Disturbed, Room 13, Right wing_

…Well, here we go: the Diary, Journal, Log…_Thing_ of Dean Winchester. Damn, I feel like a preteen girl. I'm almost surprised this notebook and pen the staff provided aren't glittery pink with feathers and sequins and shit. Maybe they think it'll finally take me all the way 'round the bend. For one in those stupid douche-bags' life, they may just be right.

Seriously though, I'm pretty sure they gave these notebooks to us so they can sneak in while we sleep and take a peek at what we're really thinking. After all, no mandatory therapy sessions _at all _are pretty damn hard to have at an asylum. Of course they won't call it that, but every, and I mean every freaking one, of the "residents" *cough* inmates, know the truth. And the truth is: we're all batshit crazy…or so they say…

But hey, writing in here beats the crap outta making "friends" with the other innies of the house. Ugh, this place bugs the hell outta me! Even the name is…infuriating, sure, let's go for a big word. Seriously, St. _Gabriel's? _The irony kills, I swear. Sometimes I think Lisa must know all my deepest…hang-ups, for lack of a better word, and somehow has some cunning, evil way to bring it upon me.

After all, they box us in like no tomorrow, and it's funny, in that makes you cry instead of laugh kinda way, cuz the first thing, the very first fucking thing that I remember my Dad saying to me, well, after "protect Sammy", was you can't lock up a Winchester. Not because we're so fucking awesome at escaping, and don't get me wrong, we damn well are, but because closed spaces do something to Winchester men. After a while, we…aren't right. We get twitchy, we get touchy, and we get snappy. Really, we go damn bonkers, and it's not long before they're carting us out with bullets in our heads, bruises around our necks, or bloody wrists. It's just the way we are when you lock us in.

And that's exactly what they're doing to me, what Lisa did to me, and…I think I'm going crazy….

_TBC…_

**AN: Look, guys, I know you want updates on other stories, and fear not! They shall come, but this little plot bunny…would not leave me be. It chewed my on fuzzy socks. It pooped on my kitchen floor. It fucking pissed on my fucking fried chicken! In other less vulgar words, it REFUSED to be ignored. So yeah, here it is. I hope to update this if not every day, every week. The chapters will all be short, at least the diary chapters, and it'll be awhile before Harry appears. Oh yeah, and keep reading, the Lisa thing will be explained soon. Wow…long ass AN is long…ass. Yeah…Imma go know, kay? Ciao, chickies!**


	2. Of Pie and SheDevils

**Disclaimer: One day, I will rule the world, and everyone may bow before me, and I will buy the rights…but that day is not today.**

**Warnings: Same as before, but did I mention the language? No? Well, folks, beware, here be foulmouthedness. LOL**

_Apr. 9, 2012,_

_St. Gabriel's Home for the Mentally Disturbed, Room 13, Right wing_

I miss a whole lotta things about the old days: Sammy, Cas, the Impala, even those hundreds of crappy motel rooms that we lived in, but right now, what I really miss are the bacon cheese burgers and the pie. Damn! I'd kill for a slice, a fucking _slice_, of pie. In fact, I would happily kill Lisa and that devil spawn of hers for a fucking crumb of pie!

Now, I'm Dean Winchester, fully awesome dude, and most _definitely _not killer of innocent…innocents. But let me assure you, the she-devil and her boy are not innocent. I was okay, maybe a little broke up, but I was fucking okay after Sammy left. There was nothing I could do, no demon worth their salt would take my patched up soul, and I wasn't gonna try to make them. I was handling. But then Ben, that stupid kid, picked a fight. No biggie, right? Wrong. Rather than take the blame for bein' a overbearing douche, Ben said that his mom's boyfriend, me, had gotten drunk and hit him. No one was able to prove it, and so they let it slide, but things weren't the same.

I mean, if Lisa had just kicked me out, I would have understood, and maybe even eventually forgiven. After all, family before lovers, yeah? But Lisa acted like nothing was wrong… at first. But then I noticed slight differences in her behavior. She started to act like I was…unstable. In arguments, she would rile me almost to the end of my rope, and just when I was ready to storm out, she'd placate me quietly and tearfully, as if I was a wild monster about to rip her flesh and crack her bones. Of course, the neighbors heard every argument. And with Ben continuing to hide fights and bullying behind my supposed "drunkenness", it was only a matter of time before I was called into court.

Of course, once again, nothing could be proven, because there was nothing to prove, but the court was suspicious, and as soon as Lisa went out in public with a huge fucking bruise on her face, which I didn't find out until later was self-inflicted, I was pulled in. All the neighbors spoke of our fights, Ben showed off his collection of well deserved bruises and wounds, people who didn't even know me said a bunch of cooked-up lies, and Lisa, well, she was the fucking icing on the fucking cake.

She was the very picture of the abused but loving girlfriend. She dabbed at her eyes and sniffled pathetically, sobbing about how I had just lost my brother and that yes, maybe I was a little rough, but she couldn't blame me and if it wasn't for her little boy, she wouldn't have said anything at all, blah, blah, fucking blah.

I wanna kill that fucking bitch. And I wanna eat some fucking pie!

_TBC…_

**AN: There it is! I kept my promise, but just barely! Hope you enjoyed it, chickies! Hope to see you at some of my other fics!**

…**Anyone else wanna eat some fucking pie? I do!**


	3. Of Group Therapy and Big Words

**Disclaimer: One day, I will rule the world, and everyone may bow before me, and I will buy the rights…but that day is not today.***

**Warnings: Same as before. More language, y'all! And be patient, Harry will come in his own time. Try as you (and I) might, but you can't fucking rush the cocky bastard! Dang him!**

_Apr. 10, 2012_

_St. Gabriel's Home for the Mentally Disturbed, Room 13, Right wing_

Today sucked ass. And not just any kinda ass, I mean stinkin' dirty ass! Why, you ask? Cuz of fucking group therapy, that's fucking why! Off all the stupid things I've seen and participated in, that was one of the most fucking stupid ones _ever! _I mean, seriously, what sick, wacked, psycho douche-bag came up with this shit? It's like shouting out your deepest fears for any fucking jack who kept his ears open to take advantage of! How fucking stupid is that? Pretty darn, I say.

And they were all like, "sharing your feelings will help you get them out of your system so you can move on with your life!" There has never been such a fucking load of bull since the serpent in the garden, I swear! For starters, they act like your feelings are valuable, and thus to be "shared", but, let's be honest, no fucking person here wants to hear your fucking problems! They have a fucking shitload of it themselves, they don't need yours mucking up their life! Secondly, how is telling you that, oh, I dunno, say my dad fucked me when I was too young to stop gonna help you? I mean, he still fucked you, whether you blurt it out for everyone to hear or not! I mean really, simple pre-school logic here, fellas! And finally, what fucking life are you gonna move on with! They only send you to ole St. Gabe's when they think you're incurable and a threat to all the decent, hard working, _sane_ folks out there. So even if you act as normal as…I dunno, whatever is a standard for normal-ness, God knows I had none of those in my life, they're still gonna keep you locked in here with the rest of the loonies!

So, I mean really, group therapy is a lie from the devil, and I, Dean Winchester, shall not fall for it! I shall remain the same, staunch and firm in my belief, resolute and unforgiving.

…What? Sammy isn't the only Winchester who knows big words, damnit! I mean, it's not like he patented the damn thing! Sheesh, people!

_TBC…_

**AN: Here's the next chappie, chickies. Hope you like! Damn, I missed my resolution; it's 15 past 12! Damn again! But, in my defense, we went out to have lunch at twelve with this couple that I wanted to see again, and then, seeing as I had been stupid and agreed for us all to go in one car, my parents dragged me around all day until we went to dinner with another family that I wanted to see. Keep in mind that we got home at around 11 and I wanted to take a shower first, and that I woke up at about ten thirty. So yeah, busy day, this was the best I could do. Enjoy, biatches! **

***(For those wondering when I will change my disclaimer, well, when I get new inspiration, I will, but for now, this works. And I love that quote!)**


	4. Of Psycho Chicks and Cheshire Grins

**Disclaimer: One day, I will rule the world, and everyone will bow before me, and I will buy the rights…but that day is not today.**

**Warnings: Same as before. And don't bitch, Harry will come in due time!**

_Apr. 11, 2012,_

_St. Gabriel's Home for the Mentally Disturbed, Room 13, Right wing_

I swear, I'm going to die in this place! There is no, absolutely _no_ sex to be had in this joint! I mean, sure, some of the nurses are hot, but none of them are dumb enough to fuck an abusive nut job. And there are some pretty seriously fine innies here, but, um, they're fucking crazy! No joke, there are some fucking psycho bitches in here!

There's this one chick, by the name of Katylynn Browne, who is pretty much the HBIC around here, and also the reason I spend the minimum possible amount of time outside my room. She was given a restraining order for obsessively stalking her ex, and now that she's here, she seems to have set her sights on me. Now, normally, I have _no problem whatsoever_ being ardently pursued by a hot, confident chick, but Katylynn "Call-me-Katy-or-else" Brown…well, let's just say _too_ ardently pursued by a _too_ confident chick, which is a shame, cuz the hot part…damn, she's got it covered.

But you know what the weirdest, part of it is? Her ex was girl. Yup, dearest Katy was a lezzie, and, again, I must say that under normal circumstances, and only a hunter would call blowing into a bar to relieve some tension after slaughtering some supernatural S.O.B "normal circumstances", but if it were, I would have no problem _at all_ get all up in there, cuz, seriously, lezzies are hot.

But see, Katy seems to think that her problem with stalking her significant others, apparently there have been other exes, has to do with the fact that she's only dated girls, and, damn him, her psychiatrist seems to agree and encourage her attempts to claim my attention, sexually, that is. Problem? Katy has _no_ idea how to do so.

Katylynn is a lezzie, born to a lezzie couple, who had mostly lezzie or bi girlfriends, in both usages of the word, and thus has little to experience with how things work girl to guy, instead of girl to girl. I mean, it's obvious, painfully so, that she's seen a couple of movies and tries to copy some methods, but apparently her obsessive traits always had her busy with things other than watching TV, so when she comes tripping up to me in attempts to seduce me…she bungles it up, bad. But, even if she didn't, there is still one little factor turning me off of her.

She's stark-raving, batshit, bonking nuts. Apparently, we all are. I'm reminded of that weird, acid-trippy children's book and movie that Sammy loved and pretended not to, _Alice in Wonderland._ And, lately, whenever I close my eyes, I see the Cheshire cat's honking huge yellowed grin and sly eyes, and I can hear his raspy voice echoing in my head.

"We're all mad here…"

_TBC…_

**AN: Here's the next bit, and due to a complaint/suggestion from Angelwarrior1, I have decided to update 3 times on every 3****rd**** day (maybe!) instead of everyday. So you have her to thank…or, at least, I **_**think**_** it's a her? *shrugs* It's so hard to tell. I'm a girl, just in case any of you had doubts.**


	5. Of Imagined Demons and Psycho Chick Guts

**Disclaimer: One day, I will rule the world, and everyone will bow before me, and I will buy the rights…but that day is not today.**

**Warnings: Same as before. And don't bitch, Harry will come in due time! I'm pretty sure it will be the next chapter, but no guarantees, biatches!**

_Apr 12, 2012,_

_St. Gabriel's Home for the Mentally Disturbed, Room 13, Right wing_

Now, I'm not even gonna lie, I'm not the world's most…normal guy, but I'm not a really strange guy either. I mean, I do job, in my case, killing supernatural monsters, look after those I hold dear, Sammy, Cas, Bobby, and enjoy the simple pleasures of life, beer, women, rock music…pie. Simple, am I right? Of course I am. But let me tell you, there is nothing simple and "normal" about a dude in a nut house.

At first I thought it was just Winchesters, but now I see that any man locked up a nut house, if he isn't already crazy, will soon be. Especially this one. They don't let you work out cuz most of the innies here would kill someone easily if they were beefed up enough, which means I can't even take my mind of stuff by working up a sweat. And I already mentioned that there are no viable sex options. There's no pie, no Impala, no alcohol, and no place to go. So, I mean, you can't really blame me for getting a little…stir-crazy, right? Wonder why I'm saying all this? Easy. I just killed Katy.

I know, I know, I'm supposed to be the good guy, how could I kill an innocent person, yada yada yada, right? Well, the fact that Katy was by no means innocent aside, I mean, she apparently raped one of her obsessions, but really, why would I do such a thing? Another easy one. It started out an accident. Okay, maybe this isn't such an easy one, cuz, by the end of it, it definitely wasn't an accident.

_Flashback_

_At first, it seemed a normal day. I was making my way to my usual empty corner table, tray covered in the barely edible mush they dared call food here. I was almost there when Katy's loud cat screech of a voice called my name. Or her version of it, at least._

"_Deanie! Hey, Deanie! Come sit with me!" She waved her hands frantically, as if she thought I could have possibly missed her loud as fuck voice, which I'm sure had people in Mexico wondering who the hell "Deanie" was. I sighed and tried to ignore her. Apparently, she had anticipated this and had run up to while she waited for a reply. Katy latched on to my arm, trying to entice me by pressing her sizable chest to my bicep._

"_Deanie" she whined, drawing her mockery of my name into about twelve syllables._

"_What?" I snapped, out of patience with the psycho bitch. She opened her mouth to speak, but I turned my head away slightly to escape the heavy scent of fucking __marmite__ of all things on her breathe. That's why I only caught a glance of her eyes, which for a second morphed into cold obsidian before returning to their normal gray. I whipped my head around so fast I felt it pop and stared at her face._

_She grinned and fluttered her eyelashes in a flirtatious manner, as if she thought I was looking at her face in fascination or some shit. Her face looked normal, for her, meaning vapid and dumb for anyone else. Well, if this bitch really was a demon, then I had to take her out, and not to dinner, as she might have wished. _

_Dropping into a seat next to her, I set about acting as if I was about to start eating. Allowing my hand to "accidentally" knock over the salt shaker and spill the white crystals over my silverware, I couldn't prevent a wolfish grin spreading across my face. Casually, I grabbed up all my cutlery in one fist and tightened my grip. Then I shoved the dull edge of tarnished salt-coated silver as deep as I could into her gut._

_There was a satisfying pop as they entered into her abdomen. For a couple of seconds, everything seemed to freeze, including her look of shock, which made me think idly in the back of my mind that Katy's "just been stabbed" face seemed awfully close to that girl from, what, Twi-night, Kristy Stew or whoever's default expression. _

_Slick reddish-gray guts slid thickly down my arm, staining my dull blue scrubs. Again, I was helpless to stop the triumphant smirk that split my face as I waited for the finally flash of black eyes and screaming maw of a departing demon, but Katy's face remained firmly, horribly human. The last light died from her eyes before everyone seemed to be released from their frozen state._

_People screamed and shouted, many started crying and rocking back and forth, and several, disturbingly, looked either longing, pleased, or even aroused. I just stood there in horrified shock. What had I just done? _

_End flashback._

And so that's why I'm sitting here confined in my room while the doctors figure out what to do with. Again, I felt like a silly preteen, only this time being sent to my room after mercilessly teasing a sibling and waiting for the punishment to be placed upon as soon as Dad came home.

Shit.

_TBC…_

**AN: Oh gosh! I'm sorry! What I meant to do was write 3 of mu normal updates, one a day, as usual, and the upload them all on the third day, so that ya'll could read them all back to back and the update would be more satisfactory. Unfortunately, I was not expecting to suddenly be hit with so many other things!**

**My parents went on a trip this weekend and so there was some unrest in the house.**

**My brother had a project that he needed help with if he wanted to get it in and keep his perfect grade**

**I'm lazy. Deal with it.**

**So yeah, things got a little out of control there, but, hey, this update was longer, was it not? So don't kill/maim/sue me, pwetty pwease? *insert Sam Winchester puppy eyes here***


	6. Of New Roomies and James Bond

**Disclaimer: One day, I will rule the world, and everyone will bow before me, and I will buy the rights…but that day is not today.**

**Warnings: Same as before. And see? I told you Harry would appear! Am I awesome or what?**

…**Okay, okay, so it's "or what". Don't rub it in! *goes to sulk in the corner***

_April 15, 2012_

_St. Michael's Facility for the Mentally Unstable, Room 7, Left wing_

Okay, seriously? Someone up there must have a real sense of fucking humor! I mean what the actual* fuck? What is it with a humans and naming shit after angels, huh? I mean, I've met both Michael and Gabriel, and I could possibly be wrong, but it sure didn't seem to me that either of them were exactly running off to heal sick people and bless little babies and shit. No, no, more "Little baby? Great! Let's kill it for fun/revenge/divine will, whatever!" Ugh!

…Yeah, just had to get that shit of my chest. I'm still pretty pissed though. After accidentally killing that Katy chick, I'd been transferred to a new facility, this one even worse than the other. That, even considering the fact that I had a grudge against a certain archangel who had seen fit to kill me a hundred times back to back, seemed rather fitting, name-wise.

Anyway, quick question: why the hell am I still writing in this fucking thing? I just can't seem to help myself, and, well, it's not like Sammy is around to unload off onto in a, quite obviously, completely un-chick flick manner. But really, I guess writing in a journal is better than talking to myself.

Moving on, it seems like while St. Gabe's was a touch more prestigious, ooh, doesn't _that_ sting, Mikey-boy, and had one innie per room; St. Mike's scored lower on the funding bill and had two per room. Well, I just thank fuck that there are two beds, cuz Dean Winchester doesn't do bed sharing. Ask anyone.

Anyway, my roomie hadn't been here when I arrived, and is still not here. They have daily psych evaluations or some shit here though, so he was probably at his. I was not looking forward to mine.

Journal Entry Ends

Just then, the door opened, and an orderly pushed someone, I'm guessing my roomie, into the room. He was a little runt of a kid, about 5"3 and maybe 17*, if I had to guess. His hair was…worse than Sammy's on a bad hair day. It was inky black, and about shoulder length in the back, ear length in the front*, but still messy as hell. His skin was pale, but then again, so was most innies' skin, seeing as we rarely felt sunshine. The boy's eyes were the most unique thing about him, though. They were bright, electric, toxic green, surrounded by long curly lashes as dark as his hair.

He looked up at me, already big eyes growing even bigger in his little elfin face. His lips, so pink that I almost thought he was wearing lipstick or something, parted slightly and he looked a bit surprised, so I surmised that he hadn't been told of my arrival.

"…Oh. Hullo, who are you?" He asked in a British accent that I had not been expecting.

"Um, I'm you new roomie, Dean. Dean Winchester," I replied. His mouth perked up in a tiny little grin.

"Harry Potter, and, hey, I'm British, shouldn't _I_ be the one introducing myself that way?" he chuckled. I shot him an uncomprehending look, wondering what the fuck he was talking about, before I finally caught the James Bond reference.

"Hm, hm, very funny, but I think you'll find us 'Yanks' can be just as…_charming_ as any Brit, in our own way, of course," I rejoined with what Sammy had dubbed my "rakish grin". I added a wiggle of my brows for good measure.

"Of course," Harry answered, giving back a rather roguish smirk himself. Though the waggle of his brows looked more…cute, on him. Of course, he looked affronted when I mentioned it, but, again, his lips perked minutely, and I figured he wasn't really hurt.

"…Yeah, well, it's getting late, maybe we should hit the sack, huh?" I suggested.

"Okay, but I think, after a while, the sack will get tired of the bruises and hit us back," Harry muttered the last bit, and something about the twist of his mouth and the weird glint in his vibrant eyes sent a shiver down my back, and, of course, made me realize something that I should really have already grasped by now.

We're all mad here.

_TBC…_

**AN: Sooo, whadaya think? Harry is finally here! Yay! I know I made him a touch effeminate, but I've always had a bit of a soft spot for girly! But kickass! Harry, so here's my chance to write my own fic like that. If that offends you too much…well, I won't change it, but I might make Dean the bottom? Tell me what you'd prefer. However, be warned that I'm gonna give this fic a (hopefully very) short hiatus, cuz I've been shamefully neglecting my other fics while I work on this, so, yeah…be patient, I'll be baaack, MUAHAHAHA!**

…**LOL, I'm crazy. By the way, here's the *'s: *Harry is about 19-20 in this fic, but he looks younger do to the Dursleys' neglect, *imagine Harry's do from the Goblet of Fire. **


	7. Of Drugs and Legolas the Elf

**Disclaimer: One day, I will rule the world, and everyone will bow before me, and I will buy the rights…but that day is not today.**

**Warnings: Same as before.**

_May 24, 2012_

_St. Michael's Facility for the Mentally Unstable, Room 7, Left wing_

Okay, so let me just say, St. Gabe's might as well be fucking heaven compared to this place! First off, we're not allowed out of our rooms. Second, we aren't given any material at all to entertain ourselves with, and third and worst of all, they keep us so hopped up on drugs that we can barely even fucking notice the first two!

That's why it's bee forever since I wrote. Apparently, they slip it to us in our food, and before we know it, we're just laying there staring vacantly at the ceiling and drooling on ourselves. No, seriously, when I finally "woke up" there was definitely drool, both fresh and dried, all over my shirt. But now you're probably wondering how I'm even aware now. Easy, I didn't eat. Hmm, okay, so it's not that easy, in fact, it's a pretty fucking weird story, and it has to do with weed, Legolas the elf, a pretty fucking hot nurse, and my roommate, Harry.

Before I get into that though, I must say that some of the nurses here as crazy as the innies, they just seem to hide it better, or in some cases, maybe not, but people like them more, so they don't get tossed in with the crazies, they just have to look after them.

So, anyway, there seemed to be a slight disruption of our feeding schedule when Lucy, the aforementioned pretty fucking hot nurse, got to work a little late. Apparently, she's a single mom, which would have put me off her immediately, y'know, if she wasn't a nutjob and I wasn't a…um, nutjob. Anyway, she's a single mom, of twins, so things get pretty fucking hectic at her house, and she forgot to change her t-shirt when she came to work. She was wearing a ratty Star Wars thing, about two sizes too small, and with a cigarette burn practically right fucking over her damn nipple.

And apparently her long time coworker, Jeanie, was also a closet fangirl, and showed Lucy her prized Legolas the elf panties. I know, what the fuck, right? Who knew they even had those, and where the fuck can I get some…hm, hm, anyway, back on track.

So yeah, you're thinking, pretty harmless, right? Wrong. Apparently, Lucy was a Ringer too, and went to an advertised "convention" in her old neighborhood. Turns out her old neighborhood was the ghetto, and the "convention" was a not so cleverly designed gangbang. So, poor Lucy dear went ballistic with some sorta PTSD or whatever (do I look like a doctor?) and had to be taken home.

And, that, my friends, is how our feeding schedule was thrown off, and Harry and I shook of our meds, spied on the nurses, and had hot monkey sex. What? You didn't catch the last one? Too bad, bitches!

_TBC…_

**Author's Rant and Inconsequential Apologizing: Okay, okay, okay, bitches, I am so so SO sorry! I know I said a short hiatus, but it just kept getting longer and longer, and I wasn't getting any inspiration for my other stories, but I was getting plenty more feelings I needed to vent, so here we are again, mi amigos (I'm hoping at least one of my fans is a guy, so amigos would be right). So yeah, I spend a lot of time at the hospital, and I'm spending even more time due to a little side project of mine, and I getting so fed up with nurses! Well, okay, not all of them are bitches, but some are! I mean, really, just because you decided to spend 6 or however many fucking years of your life studying fucking medicine doesn't make you a superior human being, FYI. You are not whoever's gift to man, neither are you the be all and end all of the fucking universe, thank you very fucking much. Yeah, as you can tell, both Dean and I cuss when we're mad. Also, there may or may not be a lime in the next chapter. There will definitely not be a lemon, as I don't feel that Harry and Dean have got to that level yet. So thanks for being patient (you were, weren't you?) and please review and tell me what y'all think! Ciao, chickies! **

**Oh yeah, and, for those of you wondering, yes, Dean is a secret Legolas fanboy…**


	8. Of Pink Tongues and Hmmm

**Disclaimer: One day, I will rule the world, and everyone will bow before me, and I will buy the rights…but that day is not today.**

**Warnings: Same as before. Here lies a lime, sweet peas!**

_May 27, 2012_

_St. Michael's Facility for the Mentally Unstable, Room 7, Left wing_

Now, just to make sure we're all clear, I am not gay. I know, I know, not exactly what you expected me to say, but let's face facts, doing such things such as, maybe, letting a cute little guy suck your dick does kinda make you seem a little…gay, okay? But, really, I am official announcing that I am not gay. I just happen to…appreciate a good mouth when I feel one, see?

Okay, now that we have that covered, I can say…I let Harry suck my dick. I know right? What the fuck? Well, I'll tell you what the fuck. I'm tired. I'm fucking tired of being clinically insane. I'm fucking tired of not having sex. I'm fucking tired of being cooped up with loonies. I'm even fucking tired of being fucking tired all the time, for heaven's sake! So I let him do it.

It started out stupid, really, it did. We were just laying about our cell, pretending to eat our food, when Harry yawned. I asked if he was tired, and he said yes. And then he proceeded to tell just what all he was tired of, and I had to agree. So we began muttering between ourselves, just tossing up half-assed impossible plans for escapes, just for the heck of it. But that soon lost its fun, so we turned to thinking up ways to subtly snub the asylum and its workers, even if it was only in a really small fucking way that only the two of us would ever know. We decided on sex.

See, the way the asylum is set up, sex is just not an option. The men and women are too segregated and sedated, and the nurses are too standoffish and...well, nuts. So, it quickly became obvious that the only viable candidates would be each other.

Now, I was all for sticking it to the man, or, in this case, the asylum, but I wasn't quite extreme enough to stick my dick in another dude's shit-hole just to prove my point. And since Harry wasn't too keen on it himself, we decided to go with the great stand-by: blowjobs.

But, I've been told one too many times by one too many beer-bellied, greasy, balding old truckers that my mouth was just perfect for cocksucking. I wasn't about to get into any situation that could prove them right. Once I made this clear to Harry, he just sighed, shrugged, and proclaimed quite distinctly that he had no interest in digesting my cum, and to not even think about making him swallow. We reached agreement, shook hands, and then got down to business. That is to say, I sat there like an idiot while he sucked my brains, soul, and fucking _everything_ right out of my fucking dick and into his pretty little swollen mouth.

He licked, and sucked, and deep-throated, and half a dozen other things I have no fucking words for, but that blew my fucking brain. And all while he did that, he held it carefully in one small hand, dainty as a fucking china cup of fucking tea, and looked up at me with innocent eyes through sinfully long and black lashes. And his tongue! It was bright pink, soft, and warm, with just the right amount of roughness to counteract the smoothness. In other words, it was fucking paradise.

And finally, I was ready to cum, and I wanted so bad to just slide my fingers in his messy mop and shove him down deeper on m cock, but I respected his demands, and curled my fingers painfully tight in the sheets of my bed and gritted my teeth. I needn't have bothered.

At my groaned warning that I was ready to let loose, he simply swallowed me all down to the hilt, and fucking hummed while he fucking swallowed and fucking worked it with his tongue. I couldn't help it. It had been a while for me, and he was a fucking master, and I just exploded in his mouth. And…he…fucking…._swallowed._

He looked up at me, still through his lashes, his cheeks full of my cum, with some of it splattered messily on his mouth and cheeks. Somehow, even though I had been careful, his hair looked like he'd just been fucked straight through two mattresses, and he slowly stuck out his tongue to lap up the rest. And then, as the fucking icing, he slowly, carefully suckled the bits of my cum off his fingers. If I was a fucking teenager, I'd have been fucking hard again.

_TBC…_

**Author's Rant: So here's another chapter, written on another day, with another rant. Drugs. Seriously, why do idiots use them? Why? They just scream temporary fix! They're just a fucking cheap-ass jerry-rig that may seem to work for a while, but will then blow up in your fucking face! Please, please, if anyone reading this in entertaining thoughts of taking drugs because it helps you forget, or makes you look cool, please, don't! There's nothing cool about ending up a crack-whore. There's nothing helpful about stealing and murdering for another fix that lasts shorter and shorter until you kill yourself. Guys, drugs are not cool, and don't let anyone tell you that they are or that they are okay. Please? Okay, good, now I can write the story notes.**

**AN: How'd you guys like my lime? It's a POV lime, which means, at least in this story, that it isn't the most detailed or obviously linear, and it focuses more on feelings or impressions, but I still hope you horndogs out there enjoyed it. The next chapter will probably have Dean and Harry's descent into the dark. MUAHAHAH! Laters, ninos!**


	9. Harry's Interlude

**Disclaimer: One day, I will rule the world, and everyone will bow before me, and I will buy the rights…but that day is not today.**

**Warnings: Same as before, and maybe some disturbing imagery?**

_March, 27, 2012_

_St. Michael's Facility for the Mentally Unstable, Room 7, Left wing_

_It hurt. The agonizing drag of needed oxygen burned his lungs, and singed his nostrils. His eyes teared up, dripping blood down his tanned cheeks. He slowly clenches his hands deep into the Texas soil, and tried to steady the spinning world. His head pounded in time with his heart. He felt the slow tickle of blood drizzling from his ears, his stomach heaved, and he emptied it near his head._

_The scent rose strongly in the air, and he steadied himself on all four of his limbs. He tossed his head back, as if to howl at the full moon hanging above him, but what came out of his sharp-toothed mouth was no animal sound. It was a name, clear on the night breeze._

"_**DEANNNNNNNNN!"**_

I awoke in a cold sweat. _He_ was coming. If only I knew who _he_ was. But, unfortunately, I did know what _he_ wanted. _He_ wanted Dean. Well, _he_ wasn't going to get him, not if I had anything to say about it! I turned my head to look at the peacefully sleeping man whose seed still had traces in my mouth. I swallowed and sighed. _He_, whoever _he_ was, would not get Dean. I would save this man, for reasons I didn't know and didn't want to know, I would save this man, and let the rest of this world burn…

_TBC…_

**AN: Just a really short Harry POV to show what all's happening. We seem to be getting into the meat of the matter, duckies, so buckle up, this could be a freaking Six Flags worthy ride! Also, as it seems right now, we're looking at some polyamory here, y'all. How does Dean/Sam/Castiel/Harry sound to you guys out there, hmm? Review and tell me, okay?**


	10. Of Love and Apologies

My dear chickies, I'm sorry to say, that, as of right now. this story is on official hiatus. I may update again if the inspiration strikes me, but if not, I'm sorry.

However, please note that if I do update, it will be on my Ao3 account, MostlySane.

I love you all and am so sorry I have to do this. Please don't give up complete hope, as I have an inkling that I am not done with this story yet!

Much love and apologies,

Nasti


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